What's up with the bathroom today?

As mothers, we rarely indulge ourselves. However, I do just that every morning when I take my shower. I give my kids books to read, I lock my door, and then I take a long and uninterrupted shower. On occasion, I might have music or scriptures playing in the background, but mostly I just cherish this time to think. It seems that throughout my very long day that starts at seven in the morning and ends regularly after midnight, I rarely find myself alone with my thoughts. Thus, I take advantage of my time I share in the shower. I enjoy thinking about life, pondering about issues, and planning action on solving situations. I feel like I'm a genius coming up with so many ideas and plans. I try so very hard to catalog all those thoughts into corners of my mind so I won't forget them when I'm out of the bathroom. Most of those decisions made while showering have really been helpful in my daily life.

This is the first home in which we don't have a master bathroom. I really dislike this fact. I don't like it that my children use it as well, although they do have their own upstairs. Cleaning the bathroom every week doesn't give me much cheer; keeping it clean throughout the week is what makes me happy. How can you keep a bathroom frequented by kids clean each day? The other day, while Elijah and I were on a date, Charlton had enjoyed powdering the bathroom floor with my rouge, Gillian had spit toothpaste all over the sink, and the boys had overflown the toilet with too much paper. Today, I had them clean it, and although they did a good job, it wasn't up to my standard. So, when they left to play, I cleaned it again. At least, I can enjoy its cleanliness and sparkle even for a moment!

I was again in the bathroom tonight taking my time dying my hair. I have gray hair every where in my head, but there is one spot right up front that makes me absolutely irate. Elijah thinks it makes me look distinguished and wishes I didn't dye my hair. I used to have an old teacher that had this big chunk of gray hair while the rest of his head was darker. I hated that teacher, and I never thought that big blob of gray hair made him look distinguished. On the contrary, I thought he looked like Count Dracula. In short, I don't think I'm ready to look like Count Dracula's sister. The interesting fact is that I actually like ladies with gray hair. But most of them are old, and they sort of fit the graceful aging of womanhood. I'm not old just yet, so I dye my hair.

While dying my hair, I was thinking how well I was doing in coloring it like a pro. And then, my pride was hurt; I got paint all over my skin. I hate failure and mediocrity, and I was seeing a very mediocre job right on its face. While trying to clean the skin with a cloth dabbed in alcohol, I kept thinking what Elijah had told me the night before. I had said something about my impatience and unhappiness that I encounter when I have to deal with people with low expectations and a mediocre attitude toward life. I remember saying to Elijah that I couldn't understand how people didn't give it all, but were satisfied with just a little effort or a short vision. He didn't criticize me for being such a snob, but instead just shared his feelings that we should see people just like the Savior would, with love and compassion, and always trying to find good in them. As I looked at my face and hair in the mirror, I was trying very hard to be compassionate toward me. I know I'm very demanding on myself; I like it and works well for my personality. I get mad at myself when I don't do an excellent job, even when it comes to just dying some dumb hair. But tonight, I tried to train myself into thinking something good about this whole ordeal. Well, as I was looking at the dark blotches on my skin, the paint on the bathroom door and in the sink, and on my shirt I was wearing, the only thing that came to mind was "Wow, I had dyed my hair all by myself withing 15 minutes and with a house full of kids." That's a miracle, albeit with a few little glitches.

As I was washing my hair, I was thinking about my day, and it occurred to me that just that day, after I had complained to Elijah about mediocrity, I had realized that I had completely failed as a mom in the health department. I called myself very mediocre. We have been in California for over a year, and I had just made an appointment with the dentist only this morning. A smile spread on my face as I realized that I wasn't that perfect after all. Just the other day, I laughed at myself for forgetting to give my friend her birthday present while her present rested on my dresser for days. And let us not forget the time when I spaced out picking up James from my friend's house.

I dried my hair with the towel, and then looked at the mirror. Not all the blotches were gone, but the hair looked good. No one is perfect, after all. We each have to work on our dark spots.